<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Home | Jimmy Darling by EverybodyGetsHigh</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25804417">Home | Jimmy Darling</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverybodyGetsHigh/pseuds/EverybodyGetsHigh'>EverybodyGetsHigh</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>American Horror Story: Freak Show</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Implied/Referenced Cheating</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:48:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,797</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25804417</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverybodyGetsHigh/pseuds/EverybodyGetsHigh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jimmy thinks that you don’t love him anymore. That you’ve found someone else.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Evan Peters/Reader, Jimmy Darling/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Home | Jimmy Darling</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <blockquote class="">
    <p><strong>+</strong> <em>Jimmy Darling x Reader</em></p>
  </blockquote>
  <blockquote class="">
    <p><strong>+ Genre?</strong> <em>Angst with a happy ending because I’m a sucker for shit like that</em></p>
  </blockquote>
  <blockquote class="">
    <p><strong>+ Word Count?</strong> <em>3.7k</em></p>
  </blockquote>
  <blockquote class="">
    <p><strong>+</strong> <strong>Summary?</strong> <em>Jimmy thinks that you don’t love him anymore. That you’ve found someone else. </em></p>
  </blockquote>
  <blockquote class="">
    <p>
      <strong>xoxo.</strong>
    </p>
  </blockquote>
  <div class="">
    <p>          Jimmy sits slumped at a small table boxed into the corner of the room, a cigarette tucked between his fused fingers and a bottle of warm ale left beside his elbow. That he takes slow occasional sips from. His eyes are bleary and unfocused; a heavy sigh pressed into the tip of his tongue, and all Jimmy can seem to do is stare at the wood of the table and feel like utter shit.</p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          Night after night, he finds himself in this little corner more and more, drowning beneath the stale yellow kitchen light that flickers every five minutes or so, and the paranoid suspicions that weigh heavy on his tired mind. Drinking his sorrows was the only way he seemed to be able to cope with his problems anymore – his wasted love, at the moment.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          The first knock in three more to come barely even phases the wasted brunette. Right away, he opts to ignore whoever’s on the other side of that trailer door. He already has his guesses on who could be trying to get his attention at one am – the last person in the world he wants to see right now. So with a tired dip of his head, Jimmy reaches over to draw the bottle of cheap beer to his lips instead of answering. But then they rap their fist again, irritably so, and his jaw clenches on instinct.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          If only he could erase you from his life, Jimmy thinks. It would make things so much easier. It would ease all the pain, the paranoid thoughts he suffers through at night, wondering why you’re even with him – wishing he could erase your face embedded into his eyelids as he lays in bed alone. You’ve changed, or maybe he has. All he knows is that things aren’t the same between the two of you anymore, and it hurts like fucking hell.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          Finally, at the time of the third knock, Jimmy gives in with a grunt; the alcohol burning in his throat, poisoning his veins, and allowing him to become numb once again. He ditches the lit cigarette in a nearby chipped ash tray, fingers trembling ever so slightly as they brush against one another. The sadness that creeps into onyx orbs the moment he looks down at his hands is unmistakable. As Jimmy feels the depressing emotions seep through his bones again, his throat tightens and he curses at himself.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          How <em>stupid</em> could he have been to ever entertain the idea for a second that someone like you could ever love a <em>freak</em> like him?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          The power you have over him is scary. It’s painful – but maybe that’s what drew him to you in the first place. You made him feel emotions he had long ago deemed himself impossible of experiencing again. The world had become so boring to him, day in and day out doing the same old thing every night.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>        So even if it was a gut wrenching, anxious, raging pain or an euphoric bliss; Jimmy was just happy to feel like he was desired sometimes. But you brought him back to life only to kill him time and time again. The mixed signals, the fights, the nights he spent by himself when he should have been holding you close – it destroyed Jimmy, and yet he keeps coming back for more.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          “Jimmy, I know you’re in there!” Your voice calls, distant and muffled from the walls as you stand outside on the steps of his trailer. “I’m coming in, we need to talk.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          Jimmy’s eyes widen in blunt surprise, sitting up a little straighter in his seat while his fingers flex around the bottle. He swears beneath his breath when the porch door creaks open, his heart hammering outside of his chest in response. Then the sound of your shuffling footsteps on whimpering wood reaches his ears. The brunette gulps, trying to force down the sizable lump that’s formed in his throat as he picks up his beer once more, downing the last ends of the bitter drink.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          He tries his damndest not to look at the door but still can’t help but risk a peep out of the corner of his eye when the bronze knob began to jiggle. Twisting hesitantly, as if you weren’t sure you actually wanted to deal with him right now. Jimmy wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case; you know he’s home, the light glaring through the windows is enough of a sign. In the end, maybe you decide that he’s worth the hassle, because there’s a loud creak that fills the room soon after.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          Shuffling on inside, your stare doesn’t immediately find your boyfriend sat across the room, surrounded by lazily crushed beer cans and stewing in his frustration. Even without having to look at him, you can tell he’s in a bad mood; Jimmy radiates a heartbreaking anger and you can’t help but assume it’s because of you. It always is.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          Even still, you shut the door behind you as quietly as you can, as if any brash movements would set him off and all hell would break loose. But he barely pays you any mind as his knee begins to bounce out of nervous habit.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          “Hey …” Your voice makes his skin crawl and the soft edge to it makes his heart race.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          You’ve always seemed so kind, so selfless and loving, but a large part of him doubts that now. It had to be an act. You’re playing him; you have been for a while, seeking the comforts of others behind his back and stringing him along like he’s your own personal toy. Jimmy always thought he was unlovable. Forever doomed to be the hot-tempered, unwanted freak; and now it’s really starting to screw up his mind. You’ve been making him feel so fucking worthless all the time and you don’t even know it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          He only blames himself though. It’s not your fault you don’t love him anymore, it’s not your fault you’ve been distant, and it’s definitely not your fault that he hasn’t told you how he’s felt. He’s the fuck up, not you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          “Are you okay? You’ve been really … off, as of late.” You come to stand beside him now, smiling down at his hunched-over form at the beaten table. Jimmy reaches for the bottle again, only to remember it’s empty.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          “Would you get me another beer?” He promptly ignores your question; head dipped low, eyes trained to the cuts on his fingers. You can’t help but frown at his indifference.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          “Jimmy, I’m trying to talk to you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          With a grunt, he shoves his chair back and moves to stand on shaky legs. He licks his lips then, stare cast to his feet. “Fine. I’ll get it myself.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          Brushing past, he flings open the refrigerator door and you observe nervously, worrying your bottom lip in between your teeth. And the concern you have for him – for the two of you – only grows. The light in the fridge is busted, the inside shrouded in darkness, and the smell that emits from it is cheap and unpleasant. But Jimmy doesn’t seem to mind, reaching into the way back to grab what could be his fourth beer of the night, if not more.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          You don’t speak up again even when he slumps back down into the hard metal chair, cracking open a cold one with a prominent frown stitched into his lips. It takes you a quiet moment to regain your composure, unable to hide your disappointment at his behavior – at his willingness to just ignore all the obvious problems in your relationship. Nervous hands fiddle with each other pressed up against your stomach, eyes downcast and boring into his exhausted form.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          For weeks now he’s been blowing you off. For the most part completely ignoring your existence and only responding to you when he absolutely had to; and something about those one worded responses now just seemed so mean. He’s made you feel dissatisfied and guilty for something you’re not even sure is your fault.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          The pregnant silence stretches on as he keeps his glare on anything but you while you can’t bring yourself to look anywhere but him. The tension is thick and palpable, your skin crawls, stomach churns, and the uneasiness you had felt walking here only intensifies. Something is definitely wrong. A part of you just wants him to spit it out already, and an even larger part of you is too terrified of knowing the truth.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          But he’s your boyfriend – you love Jimmy – despite the many ups and downs of your relationship, and you want to be there for him. If he’ll let you. Things between the two of you have been off for a long time now, yet maybe this is your chance to fix it. “Is it something I did?” A stumbling tongue, idle with thought and fear for his response.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          Almost instantly, Jimmy’s grip on his beer strengthens, crinkling the aluminum and spilling the drink all over his hand. A silence strict and nervous follows, and you feel awkward and out of place in somewhere you once considered a home. But you haven’t been welcome here, not for a long time now.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          His back is broad, strained as his shoulders stiffen furiously. Jimmy reaches a hand up to rub his face, as if he couldn’t believe your question. As if he expected you to just know.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          In a stupid attempt to help ease his nerves, you reach forward and place what was supposed to be a comforting hand upon his arm, fingers brushing over warm skin. Rosy from the long hours spent working beneath the hot sun. But Jimmy bristles on contact and the first time he’s even looked at you tonight is in the form of a disheartened glare.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          You’re probably the last person in the world he wants touching him right now and you realize your mistake instantly. So you step back, hands returning politely to your side, and offer in place a wobbly smile. Empty of judgment. Or anything ill-meaning. Strained, but still gentle.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          In the end you got what you wanted though, a response, even as guarded and confusing as it is – it’s still progress. Jimmy swallows, Adams apple dipping sharply.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          “When did you start smoking?” His eyes then trail down to your jacket pocket where a box of Blue American Spirit sticks halfway out, the light teal striking against the dark of your outfit. The sight of it forces a whole nother wave of a sad rage to wash over him. Jimmy’s hands then curl into shaky fists.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          You’re perplexed, to say the least, brows knitting forward in obvious confusion and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little taken aback. Was he going to make a joke? But only silence followed.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          His gruff question doesn’t make any sense and the entire time you rack your brain trying to figure out what the hell he’s talking about; trembling eyes sweep over his haggard appearance. Jimmy looks like absolute shit. Deep crescents rim stormy dark eyes, lips chapped and bleeding, and a growing scruff lines his jaw; he resembles nothing but a walking corpse. Weeks of not sleeping, anxiety, and poison alcohol taking a definite toll on him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          Jimmy just couldn’t hold it in anymore. You wanted to know what was wrong? Fine, he’ll let you have it. He’ll chew you out for wasting his time, wasting his love. For tearing his heart out and stepping all over it. A little bit of pain can make you feel good sometimes, but he’s finally reached the point of no return, and he just can’t take it anymore.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          All this time he could handle the petty arguments, the quiet distant days, and all the toxic bullshit the two of you always seemed to get yourself into. But what he couldn’t bear anymore were the nights alone, where you spend your time somewhere else, <em>with someone else.</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          And the Lobster Boy’s heart finally cracks. Right in two.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          “What?” Your voice is hushed, breathy, and clouded in confusion. And the delicate tone you used only serves to piss him off more.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          Jimmy shoots you an irritated look, meeting your gaze briefly before his darts back down to the blue box in your pocket. It still hasn’t dawned on you what he quite means yet. So with hesitant hands you take out the package, flip the top open and extend it out towards him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          His reaction is nothing like you would have ever expected. He scoffs and his heart hardens; he makes a face as he rejects what you had thought had been a harmless offering.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>        “I don’t want <em>his</em> cigarettes.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>        Jimmy hated admitting aloud that he’s lost you to someone else. That he wasn’t enough for you. The bitter clenching of his chest that came when the words had slipped from his mouth has Jimmy repulsed with himself. And the ugly, hateful feeling that once consumed him melts into an overwhelming loneliness.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          <em>Oh</em>, it all makes sense now. A bitter chill strikes you to your very core. The pained look to his eyes is clear as day now and it tears right through you, shredding you up into worthless pieces.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          Oh god, how could you have let him think that? How could you have been so blind to how he was feeling? Driving him to think you had found somebody else in this horrific world to love. <em>Impossible</em>. Your mouth runs dry, eyes watering with an awful guilt that pricks your heart.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          “Jimmy, I …”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          He can hear the emotion painting your words – the <em>sorrow</em>, the <em>regret</em> – and Jimmy only begins to feel worse. He takes it as an admission of guilt and now things are going to finally come crashing to the end he had always suspected would happen. After tonight, you’ll move on with the man who’s been holding you close every single night since you left his side, and he’ll become nothing but a bitter memory to you. And you’ll become a ghost to Jimmy, something that haunts him everywhere he goes.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          A part of him wants to get up and leave right now, another side of him wants to wait and see how this plays out. Wants to see how much you can break his heart in one night.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          But when you don’t say anything else – you can’t – against his better judgment, Jimmy finds himself turning to face you. If only to gauge your reaction of being caught. He soaks up your tear stricken cheeks and trembling lips with broad eyes. Yet the instant he meets your stare, you’re ducking down to cup his jaw with haste, the action so tender he feels an overwhelming urge to cry. On instinct he leans into your touch.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          “No, Jimmy,” You croak through a brittle smile.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          He doesn’t put up a fight when you slip onto his lap next, his fingers twitching at his sides with the urge to hold you – to slip them beneath your shirt and feel your soft skin against his again. It’s been so long since he’s touched you last and everything in him desperately aches to do so now.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          “I’m not cheating on you – I, I would never – I love you. Those are my cigarettes, Darling. I, I started up – I know I shouldn’t have b-but they help sometimes, and fuck –” You choke on a sob but don’t dare to tear your bleary eyes from his. He <em>needs</em> to see that you mean it. “I fucking love you so much.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          For a lingering quiet moment, as your words start to sink in, stirring within his chest; Jimmy searches your face for any sliver of deceit. He takes in how the yellow of the ceiling light glitters within your tears. The raw expression of utter grief that morphs your every feature and the unadulterated love your (e/c) eyes hold for him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          He hates himself for it but Jimmy instantly believes you. Just like that. All the pent up rage and fight melting away in a fucking instant. Just because of the look in your eyes and the way his name falls from your lips.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          He’s never been so happy to be wrong in his entire life.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          And even if he is right, if this is somehow another little trick of yours. Right now he could care less. This is what he had missed so badly. Your tender loving touch, the way you used to look at him like he’s all you ever needed – how you’re looking at him right now. Once more he’s being sucked in by your charms, and once again he doesn’t care anymore. He’ll let you hurt him as much as you want, as long as you promise to just hold him tonight.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          “I … Fuck, I’m so sorry, Doll.” His shoulders begin to shake, little trembles spasming through him as he fights with whatever pride he has left not to cry. What you can see of his face is scrunched up, flushed, as a wetness forms against long lashes. “I’m sorry I thought –”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          “Shh,” You hush him, leaning closer and resting your forehead against his. Your fingers trail across his jaw, caressing the scruff before finding purchase at the base of his neck, where you absently begin to play with the short curls there. “It’s alright.” You whisper, warm breath fanning down his cheeks.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          Jimmy doesn’t respond. He doesn’t know what to say. There’s too many emotions consuming him right now; relief at your forgiveness, disappointment for caving and believing you so quickly, and a rupture of warmth and love chasing all the ugly dark shadows away once more. You’re here with him again and that’s all that matters. At this point, Jimmy wholeheartedly knows he can’t live without you; he was a fool for even trying. He’d bleed out just so you could find him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          He drifts forward, smooth palms roaming across your back and finding your shoulders, touch gentle and loving in every way. Tentatively, with a delectable hesitance, his mouth chases yours only to suddenly stop short. Chapped lips brush ever so slightly against your own, second guessing, reluctant to press closer. He finds your gaze, brown eyes half lidded and glimmering with tears. But you know you look the same. Finishing what he had started, you press your mouth against his and he cracks a breathless grin into the kiss.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          Your hands find his wife beater and knot in the fabric, tugging Jimmy impossibly closer and he moans in response – you can’t help but refer to it as more of a whimper, though. Only you could have that effect on him, could draw out such a needy sound. God, he’s all you’ve ever wanted and you don’t know how he could think anything else.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          With a tilt of your head, your teeth clash against his as things turn more heated between the two of you. Arms looped around his neck, you can taste the bitter alcohol on his lips; sloppy, passionate, and desperate. Even though you can’t see his face, his shoulders tense, hunch up. His breath takes on a jagged edge when his nails begin to dig into the back of your jacket in a way that you’re pretty sure is unconscious.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          Parting, Jimmy’s expression is kiss-drunk and glazed, eyes focused on something you can’t see. You try and force him then to look into your eyes, to tell you what’s wrong now – but instead, he drops his head to your shoulder; the most helpless gesture you’ve seen from him yet. When you ask what’s wrong his only response is to secure his hold tighter around your waist, pulling you to rest against his chest, to which you comfortably relax your body on his.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>         Jimmy parts his lips then but nothing comes out.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          He’s struggling with what he wants to say, gnawing on his lip in thought. You’re okay with waiting though, you’re patient, and you understand that Jimmy has a hard time showing his feelings in any form that’s not anger.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>         His nose nuzzles your cheek, the heavy scent of musk and nicotine familiar. It’s only now that you realize just how much you’ve missed that smell. How much you’ve missed him when he’d drifted away from you. Now that you have him back though, you’re going to make sure you never let him slip from your fingertips again.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          Jimmy was a mess sometimes – a boy who thought that just because he was born differently, he could never find love. <em>Be loved</em>. He could be hard to read and stunningly insecure at best; always second guessing your feelings for him, acting on impulse and trying to push you away. But even still, you can’t help but love him. Can’t help but love him as he closes his eyes in disbelief before looking at you again, as if you were a miracle before him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          “I missed you.” It’s barely a whisper, less than, and you had almost missed his murmured confession.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          Now, as it seeps in though, those three simple words evoke a warmth to flood you. One you haven’t felt since before your relationship with Jimmy had taken a turn for the worse. Before the fights, the sinking loneliness, the hurtful assumptions. For the first time in a long time, the butterflies flutter to life. You can’t help but crane your head then to plant another kiss to his lips; brief but meaningful, your mutual feelings expressed through the taste of your apricot lip balm.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          Your cheek remains pressed against his afterwards, blindly scoping for his hand to hold while your eyes drift closed. The tiredness of the day has finally begun to seep into your bones and it hits you like a truck. Jimmy gives your palm a firm squeeze before his fingers begin to play and fiddle with yours.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          Jimmy says nothing else, unable to express the overwhelming amount of happiness he feels right now even if he tried. But he hopes that you can tell from the smile he can’t erase, cheeks sore from the strain. It’s then that you fall asleep straddling his lap with your legs pressed in on the sides of his thighs, your head resting comfortably in the crook of his neck while your quiet snores warm his skin.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>          And Jimmy will forever continue to love you, even at his heart’s expense. It’s all worth it, he thinks, as you’re cradled within his arms. Even if he finds out later that you’re lying, he’s just happy right now to hold you close for another night.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>